


The Purchase

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [27]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos' bed is a thing of beauty, but it might just be a tad too small for three grown men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



> This story was inspired by [this exchange](http://uenaina.tumblr.com/post/137966080859/fear-of-flying-chapter-3-uena-the-musketeers) \- which just goes to show how very powerful fangirling can be <3

It starts like this: 

Athos is dissatisfied with the general situation. It's the middle of the night, and he's feeling rather crowded. On the one hand he loves sleeping in one bed with Aramis and Porthos, on the other he doesn't always cherish the ham sandwich situation that ensues when he does. But Porthos' bed doesn't allow for much breathing room when all three of them are inside of it, so it's either the sandwich or a lonely slice of ham in his own bed. 

Athos grumbles. He contemplates switching places with Aramis, and dismisses the idea right away. He'd still have to cling to Aramis for security, and the whole point is that he wants some space while still in bed with the other two. He wants to be close, but not quite touch. The dilemma of his life, really. 

Athos grumbles some more. They hold him so tightly, he can't even _turn_. Most of the time he loves that. Tonight he doesn't. It makes him feel claustrophobic. There's really only one solution to this problem, Athos knows that. 

 

"We need a bigger bed." Athos has just emerged from the bathroom, and he suspects that he looks a little bit like something from the Dread Lagoon upon entering the kitchen, but Porthos still treats his appearance with equanimity. 

"We do?" he asks over the rim of his tea cup, while Aramis is busy setting the breakfast table. "But I like my bed. It's basically new, too." 

"It is not wide enough," Athos snaps, his temper worn thin by too many sleepless hours. "We can give it away to someone in need." 

Porthos puts his teacup down then, and gets up from the table to advance on Athos, to tangle his fingers in his wet hair and brush it away from Athos' face. His expression is careful, and understanding, and Athos has no idea what's going on until he opens his mouth. "You know you don't always have to sleep with us, yeah? We know that you need -" 

"What I need is a bigger bed I can sleep in with you without feeling fenced in," Athos says, rather affected by both Porthos' proximity and the gentle way he's touching him. The concern he always shows for Athos' needs. 

Porthos contemplates that statement for a moment, and then he nods, pouting thoughtfully. "You wanna take a trip to Milady's later? Have a bit of a look-around? We can show Aramis the blanket section – he's gonna go nuts." 

"What's Milady's?" Aramis asks promptly, coming over to them now that he's finished setting the table. "A department store?" 

"Fanciest there is," Porthos confirms. "That's where we got the couch. I heard she's added table ware to the assortment now." 

"We do not need more table ware," Athos says soberly. "We need a new bed." 

So of course it escalates. 

 

"This," Aramis breathes adoringly, "is the most beautiful blanket I have ever seen." 

Athos smiles to himself. Upon entering Milady's hallowed halls Aramis had taken a deep breath of stupefied amazement, and has not stopped crying out in thrilled admiration of every second article he's encountered ever since. The department store is as huge as it is expensive, catering only to the rich and refined of taste, and Athos only ever comes here for things he really needs – for other people, mostly. For himself he'd be happy to shop at Ikea, only Porthos usually doesn't let him. 

The blanket Aramis has found is dark brown with petrol accents and fancy gold stitching, and it matches their couch perfectly. 

"Add it to the cart," Athos says with a little smile. 

Taking Aramis shopping is rather comparable to taking his nieces, and Athos can never resist their infinite energy either. He might have known this would happen. Well, it's not like he minds. He enjoys spending money on his loved-ones. Always has. So the blanket goes into the cart, and Aramis is all smiles and bliss, until he reaches out to have a look at the price tag, and goes pale. "Oh my god." 

Athos clears his throat. 

"We can't buy this!" Aramis hisses, lifting it back out of the cart and clutching it to his chest. "It costs a fortune!" 

Athos clears his throat once more. "Aramis -" 

"No really! It's too expensive!" Aramis wails, looking wretched. 

Athos sighs. "Porthos, if you would be so kind -" 

"Listen, kitten," Porthos rumbles obediently, taking the blanket from Aramis' clutching fingers to put it back in the cart. "You remember how I told you that Athos is filthy rich? Make that _disgustingly_ filthy rich, okay?" 

"Thank you," Athos says drily. 

Porthos winks at him. Aramis still looks undecided, eying the appealing heap in the cart with misgiving. 

"Look," Athos sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "the price is really of no moment to me. If you want it -" 

"I just thought it looked nice," Aramis says dejectedly. 

"You said it was the most beautiful blanket you have ever seen," Athos reminds him gently. "And I would really like to buy you the most beautiful blanket you have ever seen – and a set of matching pillows." 

"But what if I spill something on it?" Aramis whispers. "You know what a klutz I am." 

He sounds heartbroken. Athos has heard enough. He closes the distance between himself and Aramis, buries his hands in his hair like Porthos did to him this morning, and pulls him in until they are basically nose to nose. "Then I will buy you another one. And should you spill something on that, I will buy you yet another one, and another one, and another one. Money is of no interest to me, Aramis; I have too much of it. But I have only one of you, and I would really love to make you happy." 

"Damn I should write this down," Porthos says next to them, inspecting one of the matching pillows Athos mentioned. "Flea would get a kick out of it." 

"I am glad you approve," Athos drawls at him, his hands still in Aramis' hair. "What do you say to the cushions?" 

"Fluffy _and_ soft – and the cover comes off for cleaning." 

"Perfect," Athos says. "Put them in the cart." 

Aramis looks dazed. "But they're -" 

"Quality articles I cannot live without," Athos cuts him short, rubbing his thumbs over Aramis' cheeks. "You will have to deal with it, I fear."


	2. Chapter 2

It continues as follows: 

"Oh! Oh, Athos, _look_! Isn't this pretty?" Aramis emerges from between two rows of high shelves, holding a delicately worked teapot of immense size in his hands. It's made of stained glass, the body made up of a swirl of colours at the bottom that turns lighter towards the top and twists artfully around the spout. Handle and lid are made of silver, shaped into clear, simple lines, managing to give the teapot a classically modern look. 

Next to Athos, Porthos takes a deep breath. "That really is very pretty. Does it come with matching tea glasses?" 

Aramis nods and beams at him, and they vanish back into the gap between the shelves, leaving Athos to stand by the cart by himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, finds it rather difficult to hold back a grin. They come back to him with the pot and a set of six tea glasses, each one a little different in colour, and while Porthos remains completely unabashed, Aramis suddenly looks rather despondent. "I really didn't mean to," he whispers. 

Athos and Porthos share a glance. Then Athos steps forward, smoothly switching positions with Porthos. He takes the teapot from Aramis' unresisting hands and passes it on to Porthos, who gingerly deposits it into the cart. A gentle shove and some lovingly determined pressure later Aramis is stepping back between the shelves – out of sight. 

Athos smiles at him. "Thank you," he says. 

Aramis blushes and stares down at the floor. "For what?" 

"For finding me such a beautiful teapot," Athos murmurs, lifting his hand to brush the hair behind Aramis' left ear. "I really like it." 

Aramis gives up his study of the floor to lift his gaze and look at Athos, and Athos simply cannot resist the soft gratitude sitting in his eyes. He leans in, slowly enough to give Aramis fair warning, and then he kisses him, very gently, on the lips. Aramis sighs. His eyes are closed when Athos pulls back, and his cheeks are glowing with something other than embarrassment. 

When they step out from between the shelves, Porthos is nowhere in sight. They eventually find him in the bedroom section, browsing the sheets. He looks up when they approach, welcomes them with a broad grin. "Eh, you were quicker than I thought you'd be." 

"You were supposed to stand guard," Athos informs him with a lazy drawl. "Just imagine the uproar if someone had caught us." 

"Yeah, they'd probably have thrown us all out," Porthos snorts. "Highly payin' customer that you are." 

He looks at Aramis then, favours him with a wink. "Athos set you all aglow, kitten, eh?" 

Aramis blushes beautifully. "He was very sweet." 

"I bet," Porthos rumbles approvingly. He holds up a set of duvet covers. "What d'you think of these? If we buy a bigger bed, we need three of everything, eh?" 

"But I like sharing blankets," Aramis objects, pouting a little. "It's more comfortable." 

"We still need more blanket-coverage," Porthos argues, "specially when Athos wants to sleep a little way off." 

"I vote for two big blankets then," Athos hears himself say. "Which means all we need to buy is one new duvet." 

Aramis and Porthos just _look_ at him – Porthos patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop, while Aramis looks positively pained by the very idea. 

"But then of course the old covers will not necessarily match," Athos continues smoothly, "so we better get a few new covers as well – in sets of two." 

Porthos promptly chuckles to himself, causing Athos to glare at him as he takes the proffered duvet covers off his hands. "No wonder you were so eager to come here." 

"I just like doin' some couples' shoppin' with the two of you," Porthos tells him in a soft voice, leaning sideways to brush a kiss to Athos' cheek. "It's nice. Makes it more official." 

Athos feels the heat rise to his face. "Buying a bigger bed is not official enough?" 

"Oh, it's plenty official," Porthos soothes him, putting his arm around Athos' shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "Still." 

They each get to choose a set of duvet covers, with Athos deliberately picking something not quite blue, and then they're finally standing in the middle of the bed section. It is somewhat anticlimactic. Athos frowns. 

"Makes you really wonder, doesn't it," Porthos muses beside him, "where all the other people like us buy their beds. I mean they have to get them _somewhere_." 

"Maybe they are happy with a couple of mattresses lying side by side on the floor," Aramis suggests, his tone somewhere between wondering and frustrated. 

"Well I am not," Athos huffs, putting his hands on his hips, glaring at Porthos when he flops down on the bed right next to him. "What are you doing? That one is not nearly wide enough." 

"Still comfortable though," Porthos grins, inclining his head in an inviting gesture. "Join me." 

"Certainly not," Athos says, pulling his brows together in concentration. "Aramis, didn't you say that the Turtle Boy works with wood?" 

For a second Aramis looks adorably confused, then he starts to giggle. "His name is d'Artagnan, and he is a bike courier – his _sister_ works with wood. She's a carpenter – took over the family business. Constance met her at the wedding. The one d'Artagnan took her to, I mean." 

"Yes, well, good enough," Athos recovers gracefully. "Have you seen any of her work?" 

"She made Constance a new design table," Aramis says eagerly, eyes lighting up. "It's amazing! It has a glass surface inlet that can be lit from underneath for sketching, and the most beautiful drawers – with neat little compartments for Constance's tools. Constance loves the thing more than her own mother ... at least that's what she says." 

Athos smiles. "That sounds as though she might be up to the task." 

"D'Artagnan says she can do _anything_ ," Aramis informs them confidently. 

Porthos gets up from the bed. "I take it we're done here then?" 

"We are," Athos confirms tersely. "Unless you want to jump into a few more beds?" 

"Nah," Porthos says with a naughty little grin. "It's no fun if I've to do it by myself." He grips the cart's handle and pushes it forwards. "And if we wanna visit Turtle Boy's family today, we better get going, eh?"


	3. Chapter 3

It all ends well. Because it always does. 

D'Artagnan's sister is a slender young woman, with a delicate little face and the general appearance of a fairy tale princess. She is blond and blue-eyed, and her name is Anne. Apparently she is d'Artagnan's sister by marriage only, and in the habit of treating him in the manner of a benevolent sovereign. Interestingly enough he seems to like that. Aramis takes one look at her and immediately turns completely useless. Athos cannot say he's in favour. Even Porthos looks a little put-out. 

Still, the way she handles a saw is awe-inspiring. Her workshop is clean and organized, she has a catalogue of professionally photographed work to show them, and doesn't bat even half an eye when they explain to her what it is they need. Athos suspects both Constance and d'Artagnan of being horrible tattletales. Well. Mostly d'Artagnan. 

"I want to see the bedroom," Anne says after some consideration, her otherwise so smooth forehead creased by fine lines of contemplation. "It would help me with the design and allow me to choose the right kind of wood for the frame." She levels a fearless gaze at Athos. "I take it that money is not an issue?" 

"None whatsoever," he replies in an even voice. 

In the background d'Artagnan is trying to extract news about Constance from Aramis. It isn't going very well. Aramis is still completely stupefied by Anne's charms and thus somewhat monosyllabic. D'Artagnan looks a little desperate. 

"If you want me to, I could come with you right now," Anne says, pretending to ignore her brother's dilemma with an air of fond amusement. "I apprehend the matter is somewhat urgent?" 

"Eh, I wouldn't call it _that_ ," Porthos says vaguely, and Athos lifts his chin in a determined manner. 

"It is _very_ urgent," he says flatly, turning his head to look at Aramis. "Wouldn't you agree?" 

Aramis blinks at him, and turns pink. "Sorry, I didn't pay attention." 

"Ah, yes," Athos murmurs, "d'Artagnan was distracting you. Let me bring you up to speed: We are taking Anne home, so she can have a look at everything. Maybe d'Artagnan wants to accompany her?" 

"That is a good idea," Anne says, a distinctly saucy tone to her voice. "We can pay Constance a visit afterwards." 

D'Artagnan basically dies of approval, right there. So it is agreed upon that Anne and d'Artagnan are going to follow them home in Anne's car, and they part. 

 

Athos had rented another car for their little excursion; its trunk is loaded with their acquisitions from Milady's. Behind the steering wheel, Porthos looks pointedly amused, even more so when he glances into the rear view mirror and catches Aramis' dreamy gaze. "Anne's very pretty, isn't she Aramis?" 

Aramis blinks, and then stares at him in dawning horror. "Oh God - I was totally obvious wasn't I?" 

His guilty demeanour does a lot to smooth down Athos' ruffled feathers. 

"You sure were," Porthos chuckles, changing lanes and taking a left turn, "Athos was all jealous." 

"I was not," Athos says immediately, noticing too late that he sounds like a petulant child. He clears his throat. "I was merely a little disgruntled." 

"I am so sorry," Aramis says softly. "It is just that she is so -" 

"Fragile," Porthos interrupts him, and nods. "Yeah. Really pretty, and really fragile. I bet she could take a man's head of for even suggestin' as much." 

"There certainly appears to be a layer of steel under the fragility," Athos agrees thoughtfully. He turns to look at Aramis and smiles at him. "I understand the appeal, believe me." 

Aramis goggles at him. "You're not angry?" 

"I shall have my revenge by taking you for coffee and cake at Alice's," Athos drawls. "I believe you have not been to the place since your first date. Porthos turns utterly stupid in her presence." 

"Cause she's an _angel_ ," Porthos rumbles, flustered for once, "and I know how she looks naked. She was my _first_. That's an important factor." 

Naturally Aramis is now pouting on the back seats. Athos grins to himself, strangely satisfied with that result. 

 

"Eh, I'm kind of fond of the metal bar on the headboard," Athos hears Porthos say to Anne not thirty minutes later. "It's … practical." 

Beside him, Aramis flushes scarlet. Athos clears his throat, gets up from the sofa and stalks away to busy himself with making coffee. Having new people in the apartment always makes him feel slightly on edge; he cannot blame Porthos for likening him to a cat in this regard. It always takes a few visits for Athos to become comfortable with someone in his space. Hearing Porthos allude to his sexual habits in front of strangers certainly doesn't help. 

"You have a wonderful home," d'Artagnan suddenly says next to him, almost causing Athos to miss his aim with the coffee powder spoon. 

"Thank you," he replies softly. He can _feel_ d'Artagnan staring at him. "What?" he snaps eventually. 

"You're the one Aramis kissed that one day," the boy says wonderingly. "Right? The one he was so afraid of offending?" 

Athos clears his throat. "Has Constance told you this?" 

"I was in the shop for the meltdown," d'Artagnan grins. "That was totally you, who came to check on him, wasn't it? And now you're all dating? That's amazing." 

He sounds so honest and warm that Athos cannot help but turn and look at him. "Are you always this invested in the love life of people you barely know?" 

D'Artagnan grins at him. "Only when it's awesome."


End file.
